Adventure Magazine Cover — page 137: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE MATE OF LE MAIRE by Bill Adams His shipmate—August, ’99 HEY found him on a door-step At an orphanage in Hull; They took him in and nourished him And kept his belly full; He learned the art of writing, And they taught him how to spell, And figures for arithmetic, And other things as well, And they named him Johnnie Martin, They sought to give him learning For to make his living on; He sat, the pages turning, And he smiled, did happy John; And when they grew discouraged Because he wouldn’t learn They often passed the birches out And Johnnie took his turn; Did Johnnie, Johnnie Martin. They missed him of a morning, And young John returned no more; For Hull it is a seaport By the chilly North Sea shore And Johnnie felt the twitching That his fathers had before; Did Johnnie, Johnnie Martin. For many years young Martin, Oh, he sailed along the sea, And sailed forever jesting And with laughter rising free; His hands were raw and broken And his clothing it was wet, But young Johnnie kept a-smiling With his firm lip set; Did Johnnie, Johnnie Martin. One day there sailed a packet From the port o’ Liverpool, With cheering and with racket, With her big wide belly full Of outward general cargo For the seaports far away, And the lad who was her chief mate Was a lad indeed that day, *T’was Johnnie, Johnnie Martin. “‘The Mate of Le Maire," copyright, 1923, by Bill Adams. 131 COmiclbooks.Gonmn